Never Stray Far From Home
by silverbirch
Summary: Auror Ron Weasley is sent to The Forest of Dean to investigate a series of grisly murders. Even though the victims are all muggles it is felt the murderer is part of his world, the magical one. What he finds will test his resolve to the core. Can he resist before he, too, becomes a victim - or worse? I am not J.K. Rowling, just in case you're wondering.
1. Chapter 1

The first two victims drew little attention beyond the local press. They were strangers to the area, found helpless in a lane just outside a small village deep in The Forest of Dean, who had had their eyes gouged out and their tongues removed. When it was discovered one was from London and the other from Liverpool, local gossip soon decided they were drug dealers who had fallen foul of a Cardiff gang and there was scant sympathy for their plight.

The third attack made the national papers. It was another visitor to the area but this time his credentials were impeccable. He was a happily married man, a trouble shooter for a national supermarket chain. He was dead by the time they found him, his body savaged. For years there had been a rumour of a big cat, or more than one, running free in the area. Reports had come in from Stroud and Dursley, only ten miles away in a straight line. Had it claimed it's first human victim?

The fourth attack started a frenzy of speculation. He was another outsider, a commercial traveller, but it was no attack by a wild animal. A big cat did not drain your blood and remove your skin and bones. This was the work of a madman, now nicknamed The Forest Ripper.

The locals started staying indoors after dark, double locking their doors and opening them for nobody until daylight.

-o0o-

Auror Ron Weasley threw the report back on the desk, glad he didn't have to read any more. 'What makes you think we should get involved, boss?' he asked.

Robards gave a resigned shrug. 'Not much more than a gut feeling, to be honest. The way these men have been killed - butchered - makes me think it isn't the work of a Muggle. The bones have been removed but there are no sign of any knife cuts.'

'If I hadn't seen Lestrange killed with my own eyes…'

'Yes, I thought that as well; she would have been proud of something like this. Look, go down there and have a sniff around, see if you can find anything. Don't take any risks though. If you get even a hint of who might be doing it get straight back up here for a team. Keep your wand on you at all times. Understand?'

'Understood, Sir.' Ron glanced back at the report and gave an involuntary shiver.

'Do you know the area?' enquired Robards.

'The Forest of Dean? Yeah, a little. I spent some time camping there, once.'

'Good holiday?' Robards asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

'Different,' Ron replied. 'The weather wasn't great and I didn't think much of the swimming pool.' He shrugged. 'I managed to upset Hermione as well.'

'Nothing new there, then,' Robards chuckled. 'Off you go, keep me informed.'

-o0o-

The Dog and Duck made a suitable base for Ron's investigations. It was a low-slung, oak beamed pub close to the area where the attacks had happened. It had rooms available and there was no problem getting a drink at the bar; Ron and the landlord were the only people in it.

'Quiet, tonight,' was Ron's opening gambit, after he'd been served his pint.

'Arr,' was the response.

'Suppose all this isn't too good for business.'

'Arr.' The landlord walked to the far end of the bar to clean some glasses that didn't need cleaning.

Ron had decided to base himself in a pub to be close to any local gossip; maybe the locals would let something slip once a few drinks had loosened their tongues, but he needed a chance to talk to them first. He'd have to rethink his strategy in the morning, perhaps.

'So what newspaper you with, then?' Ron started out of his reverie; he hadn't seen the landlord come back.

'Me? No, I'm not a journalist. I'm thinking of starting a small business down this way, get the family out of London. I've been looking at some industrial units.'

The landlord gave him a considered look. 'So you're police, then.'

'I just old you…'

'The only outsiders around here at the moment are journalists and coppers. You're one or other, I'll bet a pound.'

Ron thought quickly, perhaps he could used this to his advantage. 'I'm not with the police.' He made a play of looking around, to make sure they couldn't be overheard, even though he knew the place was empty. 'I work for…a different organisation.'

'Arr, I thought so. You with that lot down the road, are you?' The landlord's voice dropped to a whisper. 'GCHQ? Why are they interested?'

Ron could only hazard a guess at what he was being asked, but decided to take a gamble. 'That's for me to know and you to find out, only I'd suggest you don't try too hard.' He gave the landlord a wink, to show there were no hard feelings. 'Fancy joining me in a drink?'

The landlord pulled them both a pint and came to join Ron at a table. 'Bad business,' he said, as he sat down.

'Anything like this ever happened around here before?' Ron asked.

'No, and my family would have known about it if it had.'

'Been in these parts a long time, have you?'

'Arr, you could say that. We've had this pub, father to son, for the past four hundred years.' He cocked an eye at Ron. 'Like a new venture for us it is.' Ron looked suitably confused. 'You saw that old yew tree in the churchyard on your way in?' Ron hadn't, but nodded anyway; every churchyard had a yew tree in it. 'That was our work, making longbows. It's said in the family King Henry took some of 'em to Agincourt with him. That's where the name comes from, see?'

This time Ron really did look confused, and the landlord held out his hand. 'Frank Bowyer. That name goes back in the parish records as far as we can check.' He took a drink of his pint and let out a chuckle. 'Then these new fangled guns came along and we had to find other work. Arr, we've been in these parts a long time. Reckon afore churches had crosses in 'em. Never heard of nothing like this, though.'

'Go on, then. Give me a guess.'

'I'm just a simple pub landlord, but you won't find any answers in them computers and what-nots. Reckon you'll have to go back to the old ways.'

'Meaning?'

'Living in a place like this people still remember the stories their grandparents were told when they was children. Stories from the forest of changelings and such like; people maybe we don't see anymore because we're too busy looking at all our gadgets.' Frank Bowyer looked slightly embarrassed. 'You'll probably think me daft, but I put a Green Man in your room. Do with it what you want but I'm keeping one close by me 'til this is sorted out. Reckon it weren't no wild animal what killed those poor souls.' He drained the last of his beer and walked back towards the bar. Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder. 'Reckon it weren't no human, neither. Look to the old ways.'

-o0o-

Ron shut his room door and headed for the bed, stopping when he saw the Green Man propped up on the dresser. It was an approximation of a human figure, crudely made from twisted willow withies, but something about it caught his attention. He picked it up to examine it more closely. The body was in the form of an inverted triangle, with a circle to represent the heart, probably. The spine was made from a single straight stick, in a different wood. Ron let out a sigh, and dropped the figure back on the dresser. He was tired and had drunk a couple of beers; he mustn't let Frank's yarns go to his head. Then he saw the figure reflected in the mirror and picked it up again. If he stood it on it's head…

'Bloody hell! It's the Deathly Hallows and he doesn't even realise it! A Galleon says that spine's made from an elder twig.'

You couldn't be around Hermione as long as he had without picking up something, and he knew the Statute of Secrecy had been signed in 1689. The Bowyers had been running this pub since around 1600 and had been in the area a lot longer. "Look to the old ways", Frank had said. He may not have known, himself, what he was alluding to but a form of the folk memory was still there, handed down from generation to generation just as the pub had been.

He picked up his notebook and pen - so much easier than a quill - and began jotting down ideas. Suppose Frank was right, and the murders had been committed by neither human nor animal. That left a magical being, so what were the options?

Redcaps were a possibility. They were well known for using a victim's blood to dye their caps, hence the name, but Ron couldn't remember any instances of the butchery he had seen in the reports.

Bogles had attacked unwary humans in the past but, once again, the injuries were inconsistent.

Veelas. Fleur's face came to mind and he hoped not, even though he had seen their true form at the World Cup final all those years ago. Besides, they were from further east and he couldn't see why they should be in this area. Banshees were closer to home, but not known to be dangerous. They lamented or foretold death, rather than being the cause of it.

He shut the notebook and put it back on the dresser, next to the Green Man. A good night's sleep was what he needed now, and then a search for real evidence in the morning. He reached for his wand and cast protective spells around the room, just in case.

-o0o-

Ron awoke in the early dawn light. He'd had his nightmare again; it was getting rarer, but still happened. Being here, of all places, probably didn't help. They all had their nightmares, in one form or another. Hermione still couldn't bring herself to wear a necklace; just the thought of having anything metal near her throat would make her shake uncontrollably.

Ron' s nightmare was the vision that had come out of the locket, and he wondered how far he was from the place it had happened. It must be fairly close and maybe he should try to find the spot and lay the ghosts. Hermione and Harry in each other's arms, telling him how he would always be inferior to them, how everyone knew he was second best. Hermione's voice, even though he knew it wasn't her, asking how he could ever imagine she'd chose him over Harry…

Ron threw himself from the bed and headed straight to the shower, running it cold and standing under the water until he began to shiver. Hermione had chosen him, he'd qualified top of his year, he'd been trusted with this job. He'd proven himself before and he'd do it again. He was the best Auror in the Ministry.

-o0o-

Ron apparated silently to a spot Frank had suggested over breakfast. It was a good call. By the edge of a clearing was their old campsite, beyond it the pool he had pulled Harry from and by the side of it…

He walked over to the rock they had laid the locket on before he had destroyed it. The memory of that night brought him to his knees and he stared. He could still, just, make out the cut mark where Godric Gryffindor's sword had sliced in to the stone. It had been the most shaming experience of his life. He had doubted his best friend, doubted the girl he loved and had allowed a stranger to drag his deepest fears to the surface. He'd been so young, then, so unwise in what it meant to face reality.

No more. That was Ron who was yet to leave his childhood behind. Now he was Ron, the man. He stood and looked around him, savouring the cool, green calm of the forest. Birds chirruped and twittered out of sight in the trees and everything felt alive.

Then he noticed the camp tucked away, almost hidden behind the bushes. Silently, he made his way towards it. The shelter had been made from branches and bracken, almost invisible against the surroundings. His trained eye swept the scene, unconsciously looking for both danger and signs of life.

The fire was old, at least a few days since it had been lit. Some empty cans, and a couple of tins of cheap lager, suggested this had been a temporary bivouac for a wanderer who was used to living out on his own. The fluttering of a newspaper caught Ron's eye and he picked it up. It was dated three days ago. Something about the scene was wrong. He didn't get the feeling that the occupant was a person who would just walk away leaving his litter behind. Ron tentatively looked inside the shelter. A couple of carrier bags of clothing and a sleeping bag that had seen better days were the only contents. Whoever had been here had gone, rather than left. He wouldn't be the sort of person who would abandon anything.

The hairs on Ron's neck stood up. This was his business. This was a crime scene, he knew it. Everything about the site suggested the occupant had been a muggle, so maybe he should leave it to them? No, he'd been sent down here to investigate unexplained murders that his boss felt were tied to his world. The pub landlord had a gut instinct that the killers were not human. Ron Weasley was an auror, there to protect the magical world, sometimes from itself, and to make sure it's secrets were not revealed. It was up to him.

It took him less than ten minutes to find the body. As soon as he got downwind he could smell death and the buzzing of flies drew him to the exact spot. Even after everything he'd been through in his life, even after reading the reports, what he saw made him vomit. The flayed corpse, laid on what looked like a blanket of blossom, was even more deathly white than a usual corpse. The empty eye sockets, staring helplessly at him, was something that would stay with him for a long time.

He would report this straight back to The Ministry and they could deal with the aftermath. It would be best to keep this away from the muggle police, who would have no comprehension of what they were dealing with. Ron now agreed with Frank Bowyer; it was neither human nor animal that had committed this act.

He was turning to apparate when he caught a glimpse of something caught on a twig. He stopped his turn, fortunately in time to prevent splinching, and went to investigate. It was a piece of red material, only small but unlikely to have belonged to the victim. There were a couple of hairs in the bush, too, slightly above his head. They were long and very soft and the deepest black he had ever seen; instinct said they came from a female. This was his first evidence, he knew it. Carefully placing them in a bag in his pocket he apparated back to London.


	2. Chapter 2

An Auror team were dispatched to deal with the scene in the forest, and to conduct a more thorough search for evidence. A couple of obliviators went with them, just in case they were needed. Ron was offered some leave but turned it down on the basis that this was his case and he wanted to crack it.

He made his way down to the Department of Mysteries, the closest the Ministry had to a forensics lab, going through ridiculous levels of security even though he had booked an appointment. He hated this place or, rather, he hated the people in it. You only got a job there if you thought…unusually. Aurors developed a different mindset and the two did not match.

Eventually he was shown into a small room, full of instruments he could only have guessed the purposed of. A small wizard, of indeterminate age, indicated he should sit. The man had unkempt hair and a straggling beard. His shirt was not buttoned correctly. Ron was reminded of Xeno Lovegood.

He took his bag of evidence from his pocket and handed it over. 'I need to know what species this hair comes from and what you can tell me about the material.'

The man put the hair under a microscope and studied it . 'Hair,' he said eventually.

'I know that,' Ron replied. Patience was a virtue in here. 'What species?'

The man - Ron suddenly realised he hadn't introduced himself and had no nameplate on his desk, all part of the mystery probably - considered his response. 'We will have to run comparative tests.'

'How long will that take?'

'There are over 5,000 species of mammal known. We have examples of…'

'Don't be daft!' The man recoiled and looked rather scared. Ron took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry. This is an urgent case and time is of the essence. You surely aren't going to start at aardvark and end at zebra?'

'Zebu,' the man replied, looking rather defensive.

'Can I suggest we eliminate a few outsiders? It isn't going to be an okapi, is it?'

'How do you know that?'

'Because,' said Ron, slowly, 'this hair came from the Forest of Dean and you don't find them there.'

The man looked at him. 'Unless this is an okapi hair, in which case you do on this occasion.'

'Fine. Please start by testing for human, then move on to magical beings, followed by magical beasts. After that you can check for okapi.'

'I doubt it,' said the man. 'You don't find them in the Forest of Dean; they come from Africa, you see?'

Luckily, Ron knew that striking or hexing a fellow employee meant instant dismissal. On the other hand…'What about the material?'

That was extracted from the bag and placed under the microscope. 'Natural fibre…Vegetable origin…Spun and woven by hand and with some skill…Hmmm, dyed with a substance rather than a pigment.' The microscope lens was switched to a higher magnification and there was silence before the man looked up. 'This came from the Forest of Dean, you say? There is a possibility this is associated with a Redcap.'

'I don't think so. The case I'm dealing with doesn't have the hallmarks of Redcap involvement. Besides, the hair I found was at least six feet off the ground. What made you say Redcap, though?'

'I will have to confirm it, obviously.' was the careful response, 'but I believe it is possible this material may have been dyed with blood.'

'Human blood?'

'We will have to test for that.'

'Quickly, please. Thank you.'

'You can go now.' The man turned back to his desk, the interview obviously terminated. Ron was rather pleased to leave.

-o0o-

His next call was to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Access was much easier here. People smiled and waved at him as he went in to Hermione's office. She stood and gave him a very brief hug and kiss, once the door was shut. They were at work after all. He flopped into a chair, suddenly tired and desperately wanting to go home.

'How's the case going?' she asked.

'I think I've found some evidence, hair and material that may come from the killer, but I'll have to get straight back down there. Sorry.'

'I understand. Do we have time for dinner before you go?'

Ron shook his head. ''Fraid not. I came in as part of the case, actually. What attacks humans and uses their blood as a dye?'

'Redcaps.' Hermione shrugged. 'Even you should know that!'

'Thank you, my angel! Always the vote of confidence. Apart from Redcaps.'

Hermione leant back in her chair and put her thinking face on. Ron knew not to make a sound at this point, unless he wanted to get seriously glared at. It was several minutes before she sat upright, looking almost upset. 'I don't know!'

Ron looked as if all his birthdays had come at once. 'I've waited years to hear you say that!'

'Shut up, it isn't funny. I'll do some research for you.' She looked at him from under her eyebrows. 'You won't tell anybody, will you?'

Ron looked at her with a mixture of love and exasperation. 'You're not a machine!' He stood up. 'See what you can find and let me know. I'd better get back.'

'How long will you be gone for?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. We'll see.'

She came around the desk and hugged him tightly. 'Stay safe.' Hermione hated it when Ron was away on a job.

'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

Once he was gone Hermione headed for the Ministry library to start her research. This looked like it was going to be a long night but the sooner she could get him an answer the sooner he would be home. Home and safe. She had had her nightmare last night; the real one.

It was when they were taken to Malfoy Manor but it had nothing to do with the knife Lestrange had held to her throat. That was the version she'd made up to tell Ron; she even backed it up by refusing to wear necklaces. She could never tell him the real version.

In the real version Ron called out "Let her go! Take me instead!" Lestrange pushed Hermione to one side. "Why not, blood traitor? Why should I waste my time on mudbloods?" Then there was a flash of green light and Ron lay dead upon the floor.

If he knew that her nightmares were about him dying it might make him reconsider his position as an auror. He might, for her sake, not push himself forward so much, stop striving to be the best. Maybe he'd even try to get taken off operations and get a desk position. She couldn't do that to him.

Hermione hated it when Ron was away on a job.


	3. Chapter 3

The following day he was back out in the forest. He'd returned to the area where he'd found the last victim and was working out from there, trying to find additional information. It was slow, painstaking work but he knew an incomplete search was no search at all. Sod's Law said the important things would be in the parts he missed. It still chafed, though; he was not a patient person by nature.

Shortly after midday he stopped to have some food, leaning back against a tree but still thinking about the job. If he knew what he was looking for it would help. Whatever had caused these deaths would have certain requirements that would help him track it down. It needed food - although that was known - shelter and water. It might have a regular pattern of waking and sleeping. He needed information.

His mind drifted to Hermione. She had said she would do some research for him and it was within the remit of her job in Being Liaison. He wondered if she had remembered to go home last night, or had she spent it in the library at the Ministry? That was not unknown when she got her teeth into something. She would work until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore and then sleep under her desk . It had frightened him the first time she'd done it, when he'd awoken in the early hours to find her side of the bed empty.

He asked himself why they did it. They both knew they drove themselves too hard but it wasn't just for promotions or pay rises. He knew she did it because she still felt she had to prove she belonged in the magical world. She still thought of herself as an outsider and didn't want anybody accusing her of not pulling her weight. She felt she had to be better than everyone else just to be considered as good.

Ron had a similar problem. He knew he had been the third member of a trio, and possibly the one they could have done without. He didn't like looking back on himself as a child and was determined it would never be him who was a passenger in the future. He would be the best because that was the only place he wanted to be.

One day they would decide they had done their bit, that they could slow down and start a family. That would be the time for him to give all this up. He would leave operations and become a trainer; a position he'd been offered several times. He couldn't live this kind of life with children. Until then he would give it his all.

A rustling in the undergrowth drew his attention back to the present. It was probably a deer or something moving around but he didn't want it trampling any evidence. He coughed, loudly; that should scare it away. It didn't; instead, the rustling came closer. Whatever it was had decided to head in his direction. He took his wand out of his pocket. A bush moved, slightly, just to his right and he caught a glimpse of a face.

'Freeze!' He was on his feet in an instant, pointing his wand. There was a scurry of movement and he sent out a mild blasting spell, designed to miss but warn. 'I said "Freeze". I'm a wizard and this is a wand, so do as you're told or you'll get the next one.'

All movement stopped. 'Show yourself, carefully. Do it now.'

The bushes parted and a small humanoid figure emerged. It was Redcap, a dwarf-like creature about four feet tall with long nails that looked more like claws. It's hair was long and reddish in colour . On it's head it wore a dirty brown cap. The creature eyed him warily, it's arms held out from its body to show it wasn't going to attack.

'Are you alone?' The Redcap glanced to its right. 'Get them out here, now.'

The creature turned and made what sounded like low growling noises. Slowly, cautiously, two further figures emerged. One was a female, obviously the mate of the male. Clinging to her dirty skirts was a smaller Redcap, clearly a child. It was scared, but there was something else in it's demeanour. It looked crushed, hopeless.

'Please,' said the male, 'may the child sit? He is weak, we all are. We have not eaten in many days.'

Ron indicated they should all sit; they were less of a threat that way. 'There have been plenty of bodies around.'

'I did not kill them.'

'Then who did?'

'I cannot say.'

Ron pointed his wand at the Redcap. 'Perhaps I can persuade you.'

The creature closed it's eyes and held it's arms out to the side. 'I cannot stop you.'

Ron lowered his wand. 'You'd suffer torture, or death, rather than speak? Why? That makes no sense.'

The Redcap opened it's eyes and looked him in the face. 'Because my mate and child would survive. I do not think you would torture females and children for information.'

I took a while for Ron to translate that. 'Meaning you'd all die if it was found you'd given me information?' The Redcap closed it's eyes in assent. 'You're scared of this creature?'

'As you should be.'

'That's why your caps are brown. You're so scared of whatever it is you've not been able to hunt for some time.'

'Yes, and there are no humans coming in to the forest. We are leaving. When I saw you I thought it might be a chance to feed before we go.'

'Go where?'

'Away. You should do the same, even if you are a wizard.' The child made a whimpering noise and held out it's hand to his father. 'He is hungry. We need to go in order to find food. If you will allow us?'

Ron reached in to his rucksack, pulling out a packet of sandwiches which he threw to the male. 'There is meat in there. Beef, but it will have to do.'

The redcap removed the slices of meat from between the bread and carefully divided them between his mate and son. 'I thank you.'

'You're not eating?'

'It is necessary that only one of us survives to raise the child to adulthood.' This was said in a matter-of-fact voice. The male was expendable as long as his child lived.

Ron reached in to his rucksack again and pulled out a pork pie. 'You'll need to keep you strength up if you're going to get your family to safety.'

The Redcap tore in to the pie; he was quite obviously starving. 'I am in your debt, but cannot repay you except to tell you to leave this place before it is too late.'

Ron thought about that. 'Then tell me where I should not go, to stay safe.'

The Redcap looked at him and nodded. 'You are shrewd, wizard. You seek information where there is no information but it will not help you; nowhere in the forest is safe.'

'I have a job to do. I can't just stay in the villages.'

'I said nowhere in The Forest is safe.' The family stood up, the mother and child melting in to the bushes. The male gave Ron a bow. 'May your cap always be red.'

'Good luck.'

-o0o-

Ron settled back in the chair as he finished his dinner, pleasantly full. Having given away his lunch he'd ordered a starter, a main meal and two desserts from the pub menu. Frank was a pretty good cook, as it turned out. It was simple food but very filling, just the way Ron liked it.

He still kept think about the job, though. It was different to anything he'd taken on before; the lack of leads was frustrating. Normally there was evidence, or a motive, or something that suggested a perpetrator. All he had was some hair, a piece of material and a Redcap who would rather die than talk to him. Whatever he was up against had more than brute strength in it's armoury. This was a creature that knew how to think to achieve it's objective; it was sentient. That was an additional challenge; he would have to out-think it.

He looked up as the pub door opened and somebody came in. That was unusual enough, but the person who entered almost ripped his eyes from their sockets.

She was…WOW! Ron had always thought that his sister-in-law, Fleur, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Until now. The girl, he judged her to be in her early twenties, was perfection on two legs; legs that seemed to go on forever. She moved to the bar with the grace of a ballet dancer, one who could walk on air. Her long, white hair hung to her waist and shimmered in the same way as the pure white dress she had on. The air itself seemed to move with her. Even Frank, behind the bar, had a smile on his face.

'Scenery's certainly improved!' Ron thought to himself. 'Hopefully, she's not just come in to ask for directions.'

She obviously hadn't because she ordered a drink. When Frank eventually stopped shaking, and served her, she looked around, seeing Ron. She smiled at him, a smile that made his whole body feel on fire, before raising her glass and nodding to him.

Ron raised his glass in return and tried to smile back, but it came out more like 'Oh, Merlin!'. The girl walked towards him, sashaying in a way that made the most of her legs, body and hair.

'May I join you? It is dull to drink alone.' Her voice, like the rest of her, was perfection with an accent that made it even more desirable.

'Pl…please…yes. Thank you,' Ron gibbered, indicating the chair next to him. He received a devastating smile in return.

The next three hours disappeared in a blur. He soon found out that her name was Trine and she was visiting from Norway, travelling around wherever the fancy took her.

He told her everything about himself, even that he was a wizard and an auror. He told her about Hermione and the war against Voldemort. Nothing seemed to surprise, or shock, her and she encouraged him to talk. She even laughed at his _a __hag, a Healer and a Mimbulus mimbletonia _joke. Her laughter, like everything else, was perfect.

Ron was amazed when Frank rang the bell to indicate he was closing up. Where had the time gone? He shook his head to clear it.

'I suppose I'd better get off to bed,' he said, regretfully, as he stood up.

'I think it is very bad for the digestion to sleep without taking some exercise first ,' she replied, also standing. 'Would you care to take a walk around the village with me before you retire? It is a beautiful night.'

Of course he would, he had no other option. Ron had been bedazzled. He was a slave to the creature who now possessed him and he hadn't even felt it happen.

-o0o-

A gentle hand on her shoulder roused Hermione from her sleep. 'Are you intending going home tonight, Miss?' Hermione shook the hair out of her eyes and looked up to see Alf standing beside her. He was one of the security guards, who knew her habits of old.

'What time is it?'

'Two in the morning.'

Hermione rubbed her eyes. 'I probably won't bother now.'

Alf gave her an indulgent smile, reminding her of the only grandfather she could remember. He had died when she was quite young.

'You'll be sleeping under your desk again? Last you did last night?' She nodded. 'I'll bring you a cup of tea and some toast before I clock off.'

She gave him a grateful smile, and felt tears blur her vision. 'Thank you.'

He looked at the pile of books, which almost covered the library table. 'So, what you working on this time? Another speech, is it? I dunno, you high fliers can't ever let up, can you?'

Alf had lost his only daughter in the first war. She was a bright spark, his Betty, just like this Miss Granger - Mrs Weasley now, he reminded himself. They grew up so fast. Betty would have been a high flyer too, he thought, if she'd lived; working hard and getting on in life just like this one.

'It's not a speech, this time. I'm doing some research for one of the aurors who's out on a case.'

'That'll be your husband, then, down in the Forest of Dean. Nasty business, that. What are you looking for?'

Hermione shook her head. The Ministry had heard of secrecy, but never paid it much attention; most confidential information could be overheard if you stood by a tea urn for long enough.

'I'm trying to find out what's responsible for the attacks, but I'm not having any luck. I've gone through every book on magical beings in here.'

Alf looked at the pile. 'All the ones in English, by the looks of it. Reckon it must be one of them foreign ones then. Dunno why we let 'em in, causing nothing but trouble all over the place. Anyway, get some sleep or you'll be no good for anything in the morning.'

Hermione smiled gently at him. 'Yes, Dad!'

A lot of the girls said that to him, when he was looking out for them; telling them to eat a proper lunch or wear sensible clothing in cold weather. He knew they meant it kindly, but it still bought a pang to his chest. They weren't to know.

'Off you go, you little minx!'

-o0o-

Hermione was back in the library by half past seven, tired but driven by her desire to have Ron home soon and safe. She headed to the section where foreign books were kept but knew it would be a long shot. Languages were something she'd never had the chance to study and she had little beyond some very basic French picked up on family holidays. Until she could work out a plan she was forced to flick through the books, more in hope than expectation.

Then she saw the picture. A beautiful female form, with long black hair and wearing a red dress. The writing was indecipherable, though she suspected it was one of the Scandinavian languages. All she could understand was the heading.

HULDRA


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione had a name, she thought, but nothing else. She couldn't begin to guess at a translation and still wasn't sure what language it was. A start point would be finding that out so she looked for bi-lingual dictionaries, but drew a blank. She would be fine if she were translating from French, Latin or Ancient Greek but that was the extent of the Ministry library.

She remembered that Rolf Scamander, Luna's husband, was half-Norwegian, so he might be able to narrow it down even if he couldn't read it, but then also remembered they were out of the country on an expedition. It looked like she would have to wait until the bookshops opened in an hour or so.

No she wouldn't! The wizarding world may be stuck in the old ways but she had a muggle side, and that included electricity. She sent a note to her secretary, saying she would be out of the office for a while, and watched it fly off down the corridor before she headed to the floo ports.

Sometimes there was an advantage in having a "foot in both camps" Hermione decided, as she stepped out of the fireplace in their house a few moments later, She could never have got home this quickly by public transport.

The computer took an age to connect, and then she had to wait for the search engine to load. She typed in just a few word of text, which quickly identified her book as Norwegian. Then she searched for a free translation tool, spending what felt like a life-time drumming her fingers on the desk whilst she waited. This new broadband thing couldn't arrive quickly enough, as far as she was concerned.

Knowing nothing of the language she decided she had to enter the text exactly as it was in the book, which meant even more time looking up special characters. Maybe the accents on words were important and would change the meaning if she left them out so it was worth doing, she rationalised.

Eventually, she got there.

"_Huldra er et fantastisk vakkert, noen ganger naken kvinne med langt hår, men bakfra er hun hul som en gammel trestamme, og har en dyrets hale._

_Huldra lokker menn inn i skogen for å ha samleie med henne, å belønne de som tilfredsstille henne og ofte drepe de som ikke gjør det. I noen tilfeller, idet de samleie resulterer i et barn presentert for uvitendes far. I noen tilfeller tvinger hun ham til å gifte seg med henne."_

There was another wait whilst the computer did whatever it was doing and she pleaded with whoever was listening not to let it crash. Eventually a translation came back. The English was not perfect, but she could get the gist of it.

"_Huldra is a stunningly beautiful, sometimes naked woman with long hair, but from behind she is hollow like an old tree trunk, and an animal's tail._

_Huldra lures men into the forest to have sexual intercourse with her, rewarding those who satisfy her and often killing those who do not. In some cases, wherein the sexual intercourse results in a child presented to unknowing father. In some cases, she forces him to marry her."_

There was enough there to suggest she was on the right trail but she needed to confirm it before getting the information down to Ron, otherwise she could send him on a wild goose chase. It was time to head back to the Ministry.

Robards was not in his office when Hermione returned, and his secretary would do no more than promise to pass on Hermione's request for an urgent meeting as soon as she could. That is concerned information essential to an auror in the field meant that the secretary would keep her word.

Hermione decided her next call would be to the Department of Mysteries.

-o0o-

'I am sorry, Mrs Weasley, but access to the department is strictly controlled and I cannot change that for anybody. You must make an appointment through the proper channels.'

'This is very important.'

'I'm sorry.'

Hermione took a gamble. 'That's why Kingsley Shacklebolt sent me down here personally.'

'The Minister sent you?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, hoping that the lie wouldn't get her in to trouble if she were caught out.

'I will have to confirm that, of course. It is very unusual but we do have protocols to observe.' The secretary was rather flustered. She was torn between the rule book and not wanting to upset The Minister.

'I understand completely,' said Hermione, giving the woman a friendly smile. 'I'd suggest you go straight away, though. I have a feeling he doesn't want to wait too long for the answers he's after…which he personally sent me to get for him. Urgently.'

'You promise me you'll stay exactly where you are whilst I'm gone?'

'Absolutely, you have my solemn promise on that. Look, I'm even crossing my fingers to show I mean it.' She hoped wizards didn't have the same superstitions as muggles.

'Very well, then.' The secretary bustled off and Hermione let out a sigh as she opened the door to the Department of Mysteries. She'd applied for a job here, once, but didn't get it. They didn't necessarily want her kind of intelligence. They wanted those who could think…unusually. There was a rumour Luna had been headhunted but had turned them down and that spooked her, a little.

'Which one of you has had dealings with Auror Weasley, recently?' she asked, as soon as she was through the door. Several rather startled faces turned her way; such a loud voice was very seldom heard in here. Any kind of voice was unusual, outside of morning coffee or afternoon tea. 'I'm working on a case with him and I have full authority from The Minister to ask questions.' She crossed her fingers behind her back, this time.

Eventually, one man held up a hesitant hand. 'Um…it might have been…me. Perhaps.' They didn't like answering direct questions down here, it could lead to all sorts of things.

Hermione walked to his desk, looking for the nameplate, but he didn't have one. 'Have you had any luck…' she saw the look he gave her, 'success in identifying his samples yet?'

The man looked slightly mollified; luck had nothing to do with his work. 'I can confirm the material was dyed with human blood.'

'What about the hair sample?'

'No matches, so far.'

'Can you test for Huldra?' She got a very blank look. 'Scandinavian, possibly a type of woodland spirit.'

The man opened a box of index cards and began searching through them. 'Let me see… Howler Monkey…Human…Humpback Whale…' He looked up. 'I'm afraid we do not have a sample to test against. Do you have strong evidence that our sample is from a…Huldra?'

'More of a hunch, I'm afraid. I was hoping for a confirmation.'

'I could ask colleagues in Ministries elsewhere in Europe? We should have an answer back in a few days, a week at the most.'

'I'm sorry, I don't have that amount of time.'

'Then, I cannot be of use to you. If you do get any proof, ideally taken directly from a specimen, rather than collected randomly, you will bring it in, won't you?'

'I'll try to remember.' Hermione said absently, already wondering what to do next.

'You may go,' said the man. Once Hermione had turned away he took the packet containing the hair out from his desk and picked up a quill. "Hypothesis: Huldra(?)" he wrote on the label, in a neat, small hand. He put it back in the drawer, rather hoping a positive identification could eventually be obtained; it would be satisfying to add another sample to the collection. Then he got on with something more important.

-o0o-

Robards saw her as soon as possible and was suitably impressed with her findings.

'This could be the breakthrough we've been looking for; well done! I've never heard of these things before; I wonder how it got here? Still that isn't the important part. I'll send Ron an owl.'

'Too slow,' said Hermione. 'Why don't aurors carry mobiles?'

Robards gave her a very blank look. 'Mobile whats?'

Hermione tried not to sigh, she really did. 'Mobile telephones. It's instant communication.'

'Muggle things? We've never thought of it, I suppose. I might come back to you on that, when I have a bit of time.'

'I'll go down there and tell him myself. I think he needs to know as soon as possible. Where's he staying? He never told me that.'

'"The Dog and Duck". I assume that's an inn.'

'Where is it?'

'The Forest of Dean. He said you holidayed there once.'

'We did. It's quite a big place, do you have an address?' Robards didn't. 'I can look it up when I get there; it must be in the telephone directory.'

Robards was starting to see quite a few "lessons learned" as he spoke to Hermione. He knew he was a better administrator than auror, so was constantly looking to drive through improvements that would help his teams. Having a muggle around to advise him might be useful; they obviously weren't quite as helpless for not having magic as he'd been brought up to believe.

-o0o-

The Dog and Duck was easy enough to find. Everyone knows where the pubs are in a rural location as they, along with churches, are easy navigation points.

Hermione walked in to the deserted bar and searched out the landlord. 'Can you tell me where Ron Weasley is, please? He's staying here.'

'Arr, he is. Don't rightly know where he is at the moment.' The man looked defensive. 'Are you a colleague of his?'

'I'm his wife.'

'Oh, I see. Well, I dunno. I'm not sure it's my place to say anything.'

'What do you mean by that,' Hermione asked, slowly. What was going on?

'Well you're his wife and all, but his personal business is his, as I see it. It ain't my place to say, I reckon.' Frank Bowyer had never experience an _Imperius_ before, so had no idea what was happening to him, except he had to tell the truth. 'He got talking to a young lady in the bar last night, she made a bee-line for him as soon as she walked in. They said they were going for a stroll come closing time and I haven't seen him since. He didn't come down for breakfast and his room hasn't been slept in.'

Hermione reeled and had to hold on to the bar for support. No, he wouldn't do that to her, not Ron. Not now. Then the realisation hit her.

'This woman, did she have long black hair and was wearing a red dress?'

'No. She was about as opposite as you could get. Pure white hair, it was, whiter than I've ever seen; same as her dress. I know you're his wife, and that…does this a lot, does he? Some folk don't know how lucky they are, but I suppose we're only human.'

Hermione obliviated him, telling him that she'd come in, asked for directions and then left. She hoped it wouldn't get her into trouble but this was quickly turning in to an emergency. At least, she hoped for _her husband's_ sake it was. Leaving the pub she tried sorting through the facts.

Could he have met the Huldra? The facts didn't fit with what she had seen in the book, but the chances of Ron picking up somebody - being picked up - were remote, for all she loved him. What if they were shape shifters, or metamorphagi? "O_ften killing those who do not." _She needed an answer and that meant getting to Ron, quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

The village was deathly quiet as they walked along the only road. Nobody else was out and only faint lights glowed through fully drawn curtains. Owls hooting in the distance were the only noise to be heard. They walked in silence, Trine's arm through his. They were quickly clear of the last house and part of him wondered when they were going to turn back, not that he minded. He felt as if he could walk to the ends of the Earth.

Soon, they left the road and started to walk through the forest. Trine drew in a deep breath as they stepped between the trees. 'Ah,' she sighed, 'it is good to have forest air around me again. The air in the village is not the same.'

Ron's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and he could see well enough for it not to be a problem as they made their way around roots and briars. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, his companion was as sure footed as if she were walking in broad daylight. They walked for several hours, deeper and deeper in to the forest. Even the animals had quieted and they were surrounded by total silence.

Trine stopped at one point and put her head to one side, listening. 'Can you hear it?' she asked.

'Hear what?' Ron replied.

'Listen. The trees are talking to each other. They do that in the darkest hours when the animals are still.'

Ron strained his ears as hard as he could, but there was nothing beyond a gentle whisper. 'That's just the wind moving the leaves. Isn't it?'

'No, it is not the wind. It is the trees talking.'

'What are they saying?'

Trine shrugged. 'The usual things. They are talking about how rich the soil is, and how much water there is in the ground. Trees are not very interesting; their conversations are the same wherever you go. Come, we must continue. There is somebody I want you to meet.'

They carried on through the forest, until the eastern edge of the sky began to lighten. Trine slowed as they approached an area of stones. The formation did not look natural and Ron stopped to look at it.

'This is human,' he said, as he observed the remnants of the Bronze Age barrow. The stones had been in-filled with earth and a roof constructed over the top, made from branches covered with turf.

'Yes,' Trine agreed. 'It is from the old times. We feel more comfortable here.'

'We? You said you wanted me to meet somebody. Who else is here?'

Trine looked at him with almost a hint of regret on her face. 'Come and meet my sister.'

They went inside the structure. Although it was dark he could see quite clearly and he didn't understand that, but it was too much effort to try to work it out. A woman approached them. She was as tall as her sister, and as beautiful, but that was where the resemblance ended. Her hair was as black as the other's was white and her dress was a rich, deep red. Ron felt that should mean something to him, but his brain refused to think. Instead he was drawn irresistibly to her.

'This is Thonje, my sister.' Trine turned to her. 'I have brought a good one, this time.'

Thonje moved towards Ron, examining him. 'I hope so. Our needs grow ever more desperate. He looks strong.'

Trine agreed with her. 'He is not only strong, he is a wizard.'

Thonje spun on her heel to look at Trine. 'A wizard? You found one and he did not resist?'

Trine smiled at her sister. 'He is a wizard, but he is also a man. He did not resist. I think he is powerful, though; we must be careful with him.'

Thonje put her hand on Ron's head and closed her eyes. 'Yes, he is powerful, very powerful. He is a mighty warrior who has fought in many battles, but his heart is good. He has fought to protect, not to conquer.' She opened her eyes and removed his wand from his pocket, briefly examining it before tossing it carelessly into a corner. 'He will be perfect for our needs, I hope.'

'So do I,' Trine agreed. 'It would be a pity to kill this one. I have become fond of him.'

Thonje let out a sneer. 'You and your pets!'

'No, Thonje, not a pet. He is a good man and would be a kind husband, I think. I might stay with him if he is suitable.'

'And his blood and skin will make us fine dresses and his bones will look good around your neck if he is not, my little sister. Do not forget our main purpose.'

All the time they had been speaking Ron had stood docilely, like an animal being examined in a market. He knew they were talking about him, and could understand the words, but his brain could make no sense of them. He felt distant in this place, as if he were far away in both time and space.

'But where are our manners?' Trine asked. 'You have walked far through the forest and we have not offered you hospitality. Will you take wine with us?'

Ron nodded. Wine was exactly what he needed and he knew that as soon as she had spoken.

The wine was the most amazing thing he had ever drunk. It tasted of summer sun and autumn bounty. It reminded him of honey and herbs and rare spices. It spread to every cell in his body and focused his mind on the two women before him. They became his universe and almost everything else was forgotten. Almost everything else. Like a dream, or the memory of a dream, there was another woman, but he could not get a clear look at her face. He knew her, but couldn't place her. She probably wasn't important.

More wine was served when he finished his glass and he talked as he had in the pub last night. He told them about his family, and how fertile his parents had been. They both asked him, several times, to count his brothers and sisters, always looking in awe at each other when he said there were seven children. He told them about his nieces and nephews. He talked all through day, fortified by the wine they gave him, until the sun began to drop towards the western horizon.

'Yes,' said Thonje to her sister, 'you have found a good one. They are very fertile.' Eventually she walked to the door and looked out. 'The sun is about to set. It is time.' She turned back to Trine. 'You found him. Do you want to go first?'

-o0o-

Hermione was at a loss. She didn't know how to find her husband. He had left the pub last night with a woman who was possibly - probably - a Huldra and not been seen since. He could be anywhere. He could be…

She calmed herself and began to think. Trying to track him would be no use. She couldn't even send him a message because he didn't have a phone on him. 'Oh, Ron!' All she could see was him, but it wasn't his usual loving face in her mind. He was looking disappointed in her.

'"He hasn't got a phone on him", I ask you! Call yourself a witch, woman?'

Hermione concentrated her whole mind. Of course she could send him a message; she'd just have to accompany it! She took out her wand, not particularly caring if there were any muggles around. She thought of the moment Ron proposed to her. _Expecto patronum_!

The otter bounced around her feet and ran in and out of her legs. 'Calm down! I've got a job for you.' It ran off up the street and she had to call it back. 'I've not told you what it is yet!' Hermione wondered why her patronuses, of all people's, were so excitable. Harry's stags just stood there, looking imperious.

'I want you to find Ron. He's somewhere in the forest, but I don't know where. You'll have to go slowly enough so I can follow you, though. Do you understand?'

The otter ran around her legs a couple more times and then headed off, stopping to look back over its shoulder as if to say 'What are you waiting for?'

It wasn't like following a bloodhound; there was no sniffing or searching for a trail. The otter moved surely through the forest, knowing exactly where it was going. Occasionally it would stop to let her catch up or have a brief rest and recover her breath. Then it was off again.

They travelled steadily throughout the afternoon, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the shadows began to lengthen and the sun began to drop towards the western horizon.

-o0o-

Trine rose and pulled back a curtain at the rear of the shelter. A layer of white blossoms had been spread across the floor, like a blanket. She walked to Ron, taking his hands in hers. 'Join me,' she said.

'Why?' Even in his befuddled state he knew it was the stupidest question he had ever asked.

Thonje stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her breath, smelling of the richness of the forest, blew across his nostrils and pervaded his brain still further. 'We need you, human. We need you to fulfil our needs. We have travelled many miles from our home to find the perfect man to give us what we want.'

'What do you want?' he asked.

'Children. It is our time to breed and we will only take the best seed to produce our young.'

She moved to stand beside her sister and both of them let their dresses fall to the floor. They stood naked before him, their bodies full and ripe.

'We are yours,' said Trine.

'And you are ours,' said Thonje.

They lay upon the blossom bed and beckoned him forward. Ron had been staring, mesmerised, at the sight before him. Two full, voluptuous bodies were his for the taking. He moved one foot, and then another, his hands fumbling at the buttons on his shirt.

'Which will you choose?' asked Trine, laying back and spreading her thighs. 'I hope it is me; I want you first.'

Ron came to a halt. 'Her,' he said.

'You want Thonje first?' Trine asked, sitting up with a look of disappointment on her face. 'I found you, I drew you to us. I am fond of you. Why do you not want me?'

'Her.'

Thonje turned to her sister with a look of triumph on her face. 'It looks like I win, little sister! You never could compete with me.'

Trine hugged her legs to her chest. 'I can wait; take her.'

'Her,' said Ron, again. 'HERMIONE!'


	6. Chapter 6

The sisters looked at each other, in shock, before turning back to him.

'Who is this woman you speak of? She is nothing to you,' said Thonje.

Trine held out her hand. 'You are ours. Join us. Please! We need you.'

'She's my woman, she's all I need. I don't know what you did to me but I've broken it. You no longer possess me.'

'Then you will die!' screamed Thonje, springing towards him, fury contorting her face into a mask.

'Back!' shouted Ron, holding his hand out. Thonje was thrown to the floor, a look of disbelief and awe replacing her anger.

'You are a powerful wizard! You know wandless magic! When we overcome you, you will give us fine children.'

Ron looked at his hand, comprehension dawning on him. 'That wasn't magic. That was something even more powerful.'

'There is nothing more powerful, you lie!'

Ron gave a harsh laugh. 'That's what he thought; that's how we beat him, just like I'll beat you. Love. That's what's broken your spell and will break you.'

'Love?' Trine asked. 'I have heard humans talk of love. What is it that it can overcome our power? How can that be?'

Thonje took advantage of the distraction to hurl herself at him again and he had to use every ounce of the love he felt for Hermione to throw her off. He would not die, leaving Hermione on her own. Neither would he surrender to these creatures and betray his love for her.

The force of his love once again hurled Thonje back, throwing her against the wall. She slumped forward, landing on her stomach. Ron recoiled at the sight he beheld. Her beauty was, literally, a front. Her back simply did not exist. From behind she looked like a blasted, rotten, tree stump. He stumbled away, the revulsion he felt writ clear on his face.

'No, Ron. Please.' Trine was on her knees, at her sister's side, helping her up. 'Please do not look at us like that. It is how we are. We cannot choose how we look any more than you can choose the colour of your eyes.'

'You look the same as her?'

'I am what I am.'

'Where's my wand?'

Thonje looked up at him from the floor. 'Gone. Now what will you do? How long can your love sustain you against both of us, wizard? I will see fear on your face before I kill you. You will beg for mercy like the others.' She gathered herself for another spring.

Ron held out his hand once more, but not towards her. '_Accio wand_!' It flew from the corner Thonje had tossed it so carelessly into, when she thought he was her slave. All aurors had some grasp of wandless magic, and what he had just done was the basic requirement for anyone on operations. He pointed it at her, pulling his identification from his pocket. 'By the authority invested in my by the Minister for Magic I am permitted to use lethal force if required. Do not move.'

Thonje sneered at him. 'Your Ministry has no authority over me, human.'

'My wand does. Do not move.'

He looked to Trine, who was staring at the ground, tears glistening on her eyelashes. 'What are you?'

'We are Huldra,' she whispered. 'We have come from the forests of the north to find a mate.'

'What's wrong with your own kind?'

'We do not mate with the Huldarkarl. We must take human partners.' She looked at him with pleading on her face. 'That is what we do. When it our time to mate we go out to seek strong men to give us our children. It drives us more than anything else.'

'Then you kill them? You slaughter them?'

'Our men must be exactly right for us. If they are not we take what we need from them to sustain us whilst we continue our search.'

'You disgust me.'

'Please, Ron, do not say that! I do not know what this love you speak of is; it is not our way, but I knew, when I saw you that you were right for me. I will be your wife, and I will be a good wife to you, and a mother to our children. We are not animals!'

'You're not animals? You take what you want, you kill.'

'You kill.'

'I have killed, that is true. But I killed to destroy those who would enslave me.'

Trine looked at him and shook her head. 'No, not just that. You kill for food, to sustain yourself, just like we do.'

'Those are animals, raised to be eaten. They are not people with lives and families.'

Thonje moved herself into a crouch. 'That is why we have to go so far from our homes to find a mate. No, you are not an animal, are you? You are even worse; you are human. You think yourselves so superior to the rest of us. You destroy our forests, you kill the animals that live there for food or sport, because it is your right. When we want to live and have children, when we want food, you hunt us down as murderers and monsters.'

'We protect ourselves.'

Thonje leapt at him again. _'EXPULSO!' _The blast threw her against the wall with such force she snapped in two as she hit it. Trine crawled to her, shaking her and crying for her to wake up. She saw Ron point his wand at her and shrunk back in to the corner, looking scared.

At that point a small, glowing otter – Hermione's patronus - ran into the chamber and he heard a call from outside. 'Ron! Where are you?'

He moved to the entrance, never once taking his eye off the girl. 'Hermione! In here.'

'Ron!' Hermione ran in, throwing her arms around him. 'I thought you were...The woman you're with isn't human; she's a Huldra, a forest spirit. She's been doing all the killings, I'm sure of it.'

'I know,' he said to her, simply, and far more calmly that he felt, pointing to the corner.

Hermione looked at Trine, and then at the body lying on the ground. 'There were two of them? I thought…'

'Sisters, working as a team' Ron told her. He looked at the girl crouched before him. She looked so young, so vulnerable. 'I'll put a body bind on her and we can take her in.'

'What do you mean, Ron?' Hermione asked.

'She's a murderer,' he said, stating the obvious. 'She can spend the rest of her life in Azkaban.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You can't do that. You can't take her in.'

Ron looked at her in amazement. 'She's killed five men, and I could have been the next. What do you mean "I can't take her in"?'

'She can understand and speak a complex language,' Hermione explained, patiently, using facts to control herself and overcome the fear she had felt for Ron's fate. 'That makes her a Magical Being under the "Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Act". We don't have any jurisdiction over her.'

Ron pointed to the body in the corner. 'I killed her when she tried to attack me. Does that mean I have to arrest myself for infringing her bloody rights, or something?'

'You were defending yourself against an attack. If they attack a human they cross the line and we can defend ourselves, but we can't execute them in cold blood or find them guilty of a crime if what they are doing is within their nature.'

Ron shook his head. 'That's madness! You mean we've got to let this monster go around massacring whoever she wants and we can't lift a finger?'

'No, Ron. Please! Please don't talk of me like that!' Trine was on her knees moving towards him and he automatically stepped backwards. 'I am not a monster! We are in our breeding season, that is why we have to be like this. It is only because we need to mate.'

'How long does that last?' he spat. 'How long are you going to carrying on killing humans?'

'I do not know, this is my first time. If I do not find a mate in time the old ones have said I will start to bleed.' She looked at Hermione with frightened eyes.

'The bleeding only lasts a few days and then it stops.'

Trine shook her head. 'Maybe for you humans. For a Huldra it does not stop. It we do not mate we bleed until we die.'

'That solves that, then.' Ron's voice was harsh as he looked at Hermione. 'We hold her here until it's over.'

'We have to let her go, Ron. This is how she's evolved. She's no more to blame for the way she acts than a spider is for catching a fly. This is her way of life.'

'Please, I beg you, don't let me die. I want you to be my mate, Ron. I have chosen you. Give me children and I will be yours. I will care for you and raise our family as no one else can. I will be the perfect wife, whatever you want me to be.' Trine was crying, but Ron felt his heart harden as he looked at her.

'If you're meant to be an intelligent being, or whatever you are, you should know that is not how humans are. I could never be with somebody who bewitches me and messes with my free will the way you have. I could never love a creature like you. Can you not understand that?' He pointed at Hermione. 'This is the woman I love, because she cares about me, not for me. She's perfect for her sake, not mine.'

Trine's desperation had moved her beyond any rationality she may have had. 'Then you will lose her and me and end up with nothing! If I am to die so will she.' With a speed that no human could possess Trine leapt at Hermione and Ron acted instinctively.

'_AVADA KEDAVRA_!'

-o0o-

They stood together, watching the auror team clean up the site. By the time they had finished nobody would ever know what had happened here. It would return to being an ancient monument in the middle of a peaceful wood.

'I wish it could have had a different ending.' Hermione said, quietly. 'They were only doing what their nature made them do; they didn't deserve to die.'

'Nor did the men they killed. They were meant to be intelligent and that means making choices, not just acting blindly. You make a choice and you live with the consequences, just like Voldemort and his followers.'

Hermione shook her head. 'It's not the same at all. We can judge humans by human standards, not anyone else. I just wish there could be some way we could co-exist. They should be able to live their lives.'

'I can't see that being possible, not if we want people to live, and I've seen enough death in my life already. It's them or us and I know who I think is more important.'

They watched as the bodies were carried past them to be buried somewhere out of the way with no fuss.

'They were very beautiful, weren't they?' Hermione asked.

'On the outside, perhaps, but rotten to the core.'

'Were you, you know, tempted…by them? I know you were enchanted, but…were you?'

Ron had learnt long ago that it did not do to lie to Hermione. On the other hand, he'd occasionally gotten into trouble by telling her the truth. Sometimes the best course was to tell her what she wanted to hear.

'Well, they were very beautiful.'

'Yes,' she said, prodding a leaf with the toe of her shoe.

'And there were two of them.'

'Oh.'

He nudged her with his shoulder, a smirk on his face. 'And they were sisters.'

She turned to him in resigned exasperation. 'You're not still having that sad little fantasy, are you?'

Ron wrapped her in his arms. 'No, I'm not. Why bother with fantasies when I've got the perfect reality? There's only one woman I want, and I've got her in my arms right now. She's the only one I'm interested in mating with and having children.'

Ron felt her stiffen in his arms and draw away from him. He loosened his grip and watched her turn away from him. He reached out a tentative hand. 'Hermione? What is it?' She shook her head but wouldn't speak. 'What have I said? Don't you want a family? Because, if you don't…well…that's ok. We can…'

She turned back to him, hugging him tightly, and he knew she was crying. 'Hermione?' he asked, gently.

'I do want children with you, Ron. But I can't...'

'Can't? Have you seen the Healers? There's lots they can…'

'No! I don't mean that. I can't have children, not with your job. I wouldn't be able to cope, knowing you're out and might…might not come back to us.' She was crying hard, now. 'I'm so scared when you're not there.'

'You've never told me.'

'I couldn't. This is your life; it's what you're best at and I can't take that away from you.'

'I've worked at being the best to prove to myself that I can do it, that I'm not just a make-weight. What I really proved to myself today is that nothing in my life is more important than you.' He lifted her chin and kissed the tears from her face. 'There's something I've never told you, too. I've already decided that I'm giving up operations when we decide to start a family.'

She searched his face, desperately wanting to know he was telling the truth. 'What will you do?'

'They've asked me if I want to go into training, become an instructor. Something about getting all my experience out of me before I go and do something stupid, like getting myself killed. I'd be home every night, though. Could you cope with that?'

Hermione nodded and smiled. 'I think so.'

Arm in arm they turned away and started to walk back through the forest. Ron still had a room in The Dog and Duck, so they might as well make use of it for a night...or two. Hermione's patronus danced around their feet and Ron, without thinking, got his legs tangled up trying to avoid it. He ended up in a heap on the floor.

'Will you keep your bloody animals under control, woman? If it isn't your patronus, it's that damned cat trying to scalp me at every opportunity.'

Hermione put her hand on the floor so her patronus could run up her arm and sit on her shoulder. They liked doing that, for some reason.

'Don't be wicked to Luke. He's only being friendly, aren't you? Yes you are.' She tickled it under the chin and it bounced in delight.

'You call your patronus "Luke"?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, looking suddenly embarrassed. She never told anybody that before. 'It's short for "Lukewarm"'.

'Why?'

A grin spread across her face. 'Because he's a only a little 'otter!'

Fin

* * *

_This story is based on a Scandinavian legend. I first heard of it through the song "Huldra" by Kathryn Roberts, from which I also took the title. It is on YouTube._

_Even more than usual, I must thank Euclidian for good advice, interesting discussions on non-human rights, knowledge of English grammar and superior Mustelidae based humour._


End file.
